


A Fire's Been Lit

by very_stressed_tm



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Long Shot, Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/very_stressed_tm/pseuds/very_stressed_tm
Summary: Before the Red Plague, before the man-hunt for the infamous Doctor Devorak, there was a magician and a Masquerade. What will become of the illustrious Count Lucio who hides a dark past with his vivacious escapades. How will this magician change matters; can they even? Or will the story between the two only fade into an obscure ghost story full of tragedy? Only time will tell...
Relationships: Apprentice/Lucio (The Arcana), Lucio (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Lucio (The Arcana)/Reader, Lucio (The Arcana)/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 55





	1. Before the Fire...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hi, yo yo, I’m Kylie. I’ve been playing the Arcana since 2018, and this game has so much potential. I adore all of its characters, and, overall, it’s been nothing but a positive thing in my life. That being said, there are a few minor gripes I have with the way a certain goat’s story has been going. So, sit back, chow down on a plague beetle, and buckle up with MC. This is going to be how I think Lucio’s route should have gone.

The salty air carried through the bustling streets of Vesuvia, chattering voices of traders and visitors alike began to pick up, and warm morning sunlight began to peek through the window to your room. You woke up to the smell of jasmine tea carrying into your room. Asra was up, it seemed, and you sat up tiredly yawning. 

To say that things were more than a little hectic lately would have been an understatement. 

With the Count’s birthday happening the whole city was buzzing with what was undoubtedly going to be an even larger Masquerade than the year before. That meant people curious about their fortune for the night, gambling galore, and other magical objects. Of course, most of the people arriving only for the festivities thought that you and Asra were a part of the charlatans, but by now you had established yourself as a genuine one. It was a feat that had taken a little longer than you frankly cared to admit, but tis is the struggle of true artistry. 

Outside, there was a holler, and music began to kick up. 

Asra walked in, carrying two cups, one for himself and one for you. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed the one in his left hand over to you. His lip curled up in annoyance at the sound of music, “It’s barely nine o’clock…you’d think that even they would have the thought of, ‘Oh- gee. Maybe…just maybe…some people like to sleep.’” Asra said as he took a long sip of his tea. His white hair was even curlier than usual, and you suppressed a laugh. Asra was an early riser, but he definitely liked a quiet morning, 

“You do remember what day this is?” You asked as you began to blow some of the steam curling around the rim of the cup.

His eyes only squinted more and his grip tightened faintly, “Of course I do. It’s still stupid.” 

The man of the hour was always a sensitive subject for your fellow magician, all you knew was that Asra’s grudge ran deep, and that was all that he let on. Over the last few years, you had learned that it was best not to pry, and he waved his hand as he stood up again. Faust had been resting on the nightstand on a little handmade pillow, and had only perked her head up. Loud. She tiredly mumbled, and you nodded a little bit. “I’m going to head out in a few minutes, being around here today is not going to be fun for anyone involved if I’m here, I won’t be gone too long though. Maybe a week?”

“Ah, Nopal?”

“Nopal.” Asra agreed. 

Figuring it was better to get ready rather than wallow in bed all day (as tempting as it was), you hauled yourself up, and you went downstairs to the shop to go help Asra get his things together after setting down your cup once you were finished with the warm drink. 

As you packed a few light provisions and such, he glanced over at you with his usual curious look of perplexity, “You’ll be fine while I’m gone?” He asked, and you tossed his satchel over to him after making sure everything was secure. 

A dramatically offended scoff escaped you, “Are you insinuating that I can’t take care of myself?” You leaned on the counter and rested your hand against your chest, “I’m wounded.” 

Your fellow magician pulled on his coat and hat, “You know what I mean. Just don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone. I’d rather not come back to another crank-rest-trap-liability situation.” He put the hat on while suppressing a laugh. 

A sly grin began to tug at the corners of his lips and you jabbed your finger at him accusingly to cut off any further commentary, “We agreed never to speak of it.” 

“I mean, I’m not saying it, I’m just referencing it.” He held up his hands defensively but the look in his eyes made it more than obvious that he had no shame in it all.  
After narrowing your eyes at him, you frowned, but your hand fell, “You’re on real thin ice, Alnazar.” 

“Just how I like it.” Asra winked in reply as he moved to make his way back upstairs; you assumed he was going to get Faust. As the dull footsteps made the ceiling creak, you could tell that was exactly where he was going.

Everything with Asra was either slow and methodical or like a whirlwind. He could hint at some mind-boggling fact about himself, the city, or some spell that he’d learned, and it was only after he was absolutely and entirely sure that you wouldn’t figure it out on your own that he would finally tell you. Other days, he was moving so quickly that it was difficult for you to keep up. His travels were ordinary occurrences at this point, and unless you guessed where he was going, he usually wouldn’t say where it was that he was traveling to or for how long. Maybe he didn’t care to say it, or maybe his mind was already on the road and telling you any important details simply slipped away.

Regardless, he wasn’t going anywhere for good, and if he was leaving for any long period of time then he did actually let you know. 

He returned with Faust wrapped around his shoulders comfortably, Trip! She said excitedly. Asra chuckled and used the knuckle of his index finger to lightly rub beneath her chin. She closed her eyes and bobbed her head softly, “I think she was beginning to get stir crazy.” He mused.

You walked over to him and straightened up his coat with an equal smile, “No, I think that you were.” Your eyes flashed up at him, and for a split second there was an expression that you couldn’t quite place that flashed across his features. 

Just as soon as it had come it had gone, and Asra fondly smiled at you, “I’m starting to think that you know me a little too well, (Y/N).” 

You took a step away and nodded to the door; something gave you the feeling that he was still getting used to having someone to lean on even after all of this time, “And I’m starting to think that you’ve forgotten we’re friends. Knowing you too well is sort of my job.” 

Asra brushed his hand back and forth in the air as he walked over to the door, “Well, I do hope that I still have some mystery to me.” Whenever he got over to the door, he opened it up with one hand, and over his shoulder he gave you a quick wave. The door shut. 

The shop always felt much quieter whenever you were there alone, but until the late afternoon you were determined to have things run as closely to “business-as-usual” as was physically possible. Every year since you’d arrived, anything that hadn’t directly been related to the Masquerade might as well have been invisible past around five in the evening, and an unassuming magic shop tucked away wasn’t exactly going to draw a crowd. 

Since you were going to be alone for the evening, you decided to hell with it, you were going to enjoy yourself. As far as you were concerned, this was your night, forget the Count. Maybe if you managed to squeeze through the crowds you could even make your way up to the palace. With all of the money that went into this damn party instead of shutting down the Coliseum or helping fund the people struggling in the Flooded District, you might as well get some free food out of it. 

Shit, maybe you could even steal a vase or something (those were worth a decent bit. Right? Screw it, it sounded fancy to you), and while usually you were all for being an upstanding citizen when it came to the people in the palace you put those morals on the backburner. 

For the next half of the day, a handful of folks drifted in to come and stare at the crystals and talismans sitting on the shelves. One even wanted to have a card pulled that would predict how the day would go- the Tower. (Yikes.) But at around three, it became clear that no one was going to be making their way to your shop. Bright music was playing from the Square, and the people all singing along to it being able to be heard despite the distance told you all that you needed to go. 

Now, money had been a little tighter than you would have preferred, but you’d managed to pull together a little something something together so that you wouldn’t look enormously under-dressed. And anything could be hidden behind a mask; which was precisely what you were planning on doing. 

It didn’t take too long to get ready, and soon you were pulling on your shoes to leave. 

One of the perks of being a magician? Magical locks. I have no words for how thankful I am that I don’t have to shove keys somewhere in this ensemble. You thought, flicking your hands, and there was a slight change in the air. Until you lifted the spell, anyone who wasn’t you who tried to walk up to the door of the shop would become woozy, forget why they were there, and would wander away. 

Asra had taught you that trick, and one afternoon the two of you had spent hours watching out of the window as one poor already drunk sap kept forgetting that he had walked over time and time again. “You have to give him kudos for persistence.” You admitted, nearly doubling over from laughter as he mumbled something about a “delicate face swell sour-pardoning him” -whatever the hell that meant. 

You started to make your way to where more people were congregating, figuring that was as good of a place to get the night started as any, and your eyes trailed up to the palace looming in the distance after you’d turned the corner into a more open area. You fell in line with the mass of people milling towards the music. 

“Let’s do this.”


	2. Count the Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Masquerade's in full swing; what's going to become of you once you finally make it to the palace? Perhaps a mysterious stranger will take your hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there was a lot of filler in the first chapter, things'll pick up don't you worry >:)

Time began to blur as you wandered the streets, vendors, and smaller parties being thrown inside of the city. Bright costumes blended together, the smell of foreign food and alcohol started to become one in the same, and cheerful voices rang through the streets. 

It was almost suffocating, but it was nice to see people so happy. 

Naturally this could have been a farce for many folks, a party always seemed like a good excuse to become someone else for a night. Forgetting yourself was the easiest way to actually see the way the world glimmered just for you.

Maybe I’m being too morbid. You thought, brushing past someone’s shoulder as you squeezed through an area that had become borderline bottlenecked with people: the bridge to the palace. 

Had you already made your way there? It felt like you had only left the shop a mere half an hour prior, but when you turned your eyes up to the sky only to see dusk had long since passed it hit you that you’d probably been out for over two hours. Some stars had already began to dot the sky, but those were probably going to be the only ones visible over the city all lit up. Tonight, was one of the few nights where no one slept. An quiet voice in the back of your mind told you that you would probably be a part of that majority too. 

While the entrance to the bridge was packed, the actual area past the gate lessened considerably. Many of the people rushed straight into the palace, completely ignoring the actual structure looming over and under them. 

As you poked your head over the side of the stone bridge, you saw a drop that made your stomach feel like it had hit the water below, and some dark shapes were barely visible slinking in the murky waters. “Maybe those rumors were right…” You mumbled to no one in particular, half of the time it was hard to filter through what was urban legend and what was fact in this city; somehow you never thought creatures making their home in the water surrounding the palace could have ever been fact. 

Guess not. 

Voices out on the bridge became hushed, and it had a feeling resembling what you imagined limbo to be like. Stuck in-between two realities. The lively shouts and hollers from the city below, and the indiscernible noise of music and chatter from the closed in palace. 

This was the first time that you had ever made your way to the palace, most of the time you became so swept up in the revelries of familiar faces down in the marketplace and square that you never even made it close enough to spot the bridge. It was always too late and you convinced yourself that you would be too tired to return home. Always some excuse. 

Not tonight, you finally worked up the nerve to walk through the doors of what- on any other day- would be considered the elite. If you were invited to the palace by the Countess or the Count you had made it, how you had made it or if it was a good thing that you had, now that was another question. But tonight? Things were topsy turvy, what did it matter if you were a magician who was just trying to make a living? Tonight, you could have been royalty for all it mattered to anyone there. 

Your footsteps echoed across the bridge as you took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

This all was a brand-new experience; you had never been this close to the palace or to the Count. Not that it was necessarily on your to-do list for the night to run into the man, he might as well have been as much of an urban legend as any of the other wives’ tales you’d heard, but you pushed that thought aside.

It didn’t seem physically possible that the palace could have felt bigger inside than it looked and yet, somehow, it did. Three of your shops could have fit in the entrance-way alone! (Whenever you heard fishermen gruffly talk about how they were one missing meal away from “eating the rich” you suddenly understood them even more.) Part of you was torn between standing in awe of the gorgeous architecture and décor surrounding you, and part of you was absolutely disgusted. 

You’re getting jaded. You reminded yourself, even Asra sometimes had to reel you in from those sorts of thoughts, and you were trying to enjoy yourself. At least, that’s what you reminded yourself as you followed the sounds of intimate music while ignoring couples that had about as much shame with their actions as a thespian proudly proclaiming a monologue in the middle of a crowd as they think they are the piece de resistance that everyone there clearly came to see. 

I.e.: No one wants them there, and would prefer both parties find a room to themselves.

Soon, you emerged into a grand ballroom with dim lighting, dresses swirling, capes swishing, and enough lingering gazes to give a romance novelist material to last two lifetimes. A passing servant had a tray of champagne glasses resting on it, and you scooped on up as they passed, “Thank you.” You told them while giving a grateful smile; they never got enough genuine appreciation, and the look on that man’s face said all that you needed to know. You were one of the few to even acknowledge his presence that night. 

You stood on the edge of the ballroom while occasionally taking a drink or so from your glass. The orchestra was situated in a small corner, they were clearly enjoying themselves, and you figured that they were just told to play whatever they liked. Good for them. 

There was a decent distance between you and the open area where the dancing was actually happening, and it was very tempting to join. The night was young, and a time like this was difficult to come across in your usual day-to day. 

Ah, I’ll join after finishing this glass. You decided, suppressing a smile of anticipation. A few minutes passed. That same servant brushed by and softly took the glass from your hands after you’d drained its contents. It seemed like he noted your gaze towards those dancing and he gave a small nod of encouragement in its direction. 

That was all you needed, and it was convenient timing that the song had been playing had only just ended. The one before had been a more upbeat and faster paced tune, and partners switched after every other moment. Spins, lifts, and dips were enough to make your mind reel as you’d been observing it all, and many of the people who had been dancing to that song decided that now was a perfect time for a break. A majority of them had left to find fresh air or something to drink so that they could rest. There was only a handful of couple left on the massive floor, with many people now lingering on the edges.   
In your waiting, it appeared that servant wasn’t the only one had noted your eyes careful gaze of it all, and another person approached you. An intricately engraved white mask covered most of his face, it almost resembled a skull, and gold lined its delicate decorations. 

Ironic, you thought, we’re all supposed to be celebrating a birthday and someone wants to wear a symbol of death? I like them already. 

A rich red suit adorned the man, with gold buttons to match with his mask, and a sword was strapped to his waist-

That was when you noticed the golden arm resting on the hilt of his sword, either that was a lot of effort to put into a masquerade costume, or this really was his arm. 

Whoever he was he clearly was on the richer side of the tracks.

Some blond hair was visible over his mask, and silver eyes prodded at yours as he held out the hand that hadn’t been resting on the hilt of his sword. “It looks like I wore my last partner out, and usually I wouldn’t be above stealing another’s but I saw you watching.” 

“So, you think I would dance with you?” You jested back only to be greeted with a smirk. 

“That’s exactly what I think.” 

His confidence was almost enough to make you laugh, but you figured that time wouldn’t wait up for you to join up with it. Besides, you wouldn’t have joined in if someone hadn’t invited you or if it wasn’t one dance that you could have jumped into. 

You took his hand, and he led you out into the middle of the floor; it wasn’t until the two of you were out there that you had noticed everyone’s eyes were resting on the two of you. “Ignore them. They love any sort of vaguely dramatic gesture.” He said under his breath, obviously basking in the attention, and you squinted at him with both curiosity and wariness.

He pulled you closer by the waist and took your right hand into his own all the while his smirk hadn’t dissipated. 

The man nodded to the orchestra.

The music slowly swayed to life; your dance had begun.


	3. Maybe Not Until Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masks, mysteries, and many questions. What will become of your dance with this lively stranger?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry that it’s taken so long to upload the next part, you’d think with a pandemic going on that I’d have more time, well. I do. I just didn’t have motivation I’m going to 100% with y’all, chief.

Whereas before, when you had been watching the couples swing and sway throughout the ballroom it had felt borderline claustrophobic, but now? It could have been because your attention was drawn to the mysterious man holding you gently against his chest. Or maybe it was also because it now appeared no one was keen on stepping on your toes. Or his. 

He must be someone important. You mused silently, trying to focus less on other people stepping on your toes, and rather on you not stepping on his. 

“You seem awfully caught up in your own head.” His voice cut through your mind as you felt a light tapping on your temple before his hand returned to resting on your waist. “Are you usually this air-headed when dancing?” 

If it hadn’t been for the way his lips were quirked up in a devilishly innocent grin you may have taken offense, but you only shook your head with a quiet laugh. “I don’t usually dance, for one thing-“

A dramatic gasp of mock horror fell from him and he tugged you closer, “I happen to find that tragic; all things considered though, you aren’t even a bad dancer.” 

"Thank you?” You asked, tilting your head to the side in confusion, was that his idea of a compliment?

He was blissfully unaware of your confusion, “You’re very welcome.” 

"Are you always this charming?” You tossed back, which caused him to laugh, and he threw another wink back at you as if saying that would be up to you to decide. 

The music started to pick up, and he twirled you in time with the music. The world momentarily blurred, glittering fabrics that appeared to glow in the warm candlelight, colors melted into one another, and then your stomach dropped as it felt like the man had let go of you. Everything came to a stop, and when your eyes adjusted you were looking up into silvery eyes while you were clinging into his shoulders. 

Slowly, he pulled you back up as the music began to fade out again, it was the end of the song. He’d dipped you, and was laughing deeply, “You look like you expected me to drop you.” As he gently pulled you back up, his eyes quirked up in amusement, “Don’t worry; I got you.” 

It wasn’t anything life changing, it was simply a dance, but there was something undeniably intriguing about it. 

After brushing yourself off, (along with taking a step back so that you could catch your breath) you glanced at him, “So now that the song's over, are you going to find another partner to dance the night away?” It would have been a lie to have said that you were hoping he would ask you for another round; despite only sharing a few words back and forth so far your own curiosity was beginning to eat at you.

He gingerly picked up a glass of champagne from a tray of a passing servant and took a long sip of it, “What? Are you that ready to get rid of me after only a brief time together?” 

“You haven’t answered my question.” You jested back, the banter was a nice break, things had been so busy that you hadn’t really had the chance to talk with anyone besides Asra in what felt like years. 

Plus, you needed a break from the white haired magician. As much as you loved that magician, he didn’t pay rent. On top of having to pay for a shop with an apartment just about in the heart of the city on your own, he only helped out in minor ways like showing new forms of magic he learned, neat knickknacks, and occasionally some money that he’d received from helping out strangers on his travels. He came and went essentially as he pleased, he was extremely secretive, and he sometimes gave off the impression of being overprotective. He had a calming presence, but it didn’t exactly alleviate your main stressors. 

At the very least, the man in front of you could be a nice distraction, even if it was only conversation. 

He sipped his glass again, eyes only leaving yours to trail to the balcony, and he gestured with his champagne over to the open air, “If you still care for my company; it’s stuffy in here.” Holding out his arm to you, you looped your arm through, and he leaned closer and whispered in your ear, “Plus, I can only take but so many aristocrats. Damn leeches.” He shook his head in annoyance with a sigh of aggravation. 

If there were any doubts about this man being of the upper echelon, so to speak, that squashed those thoughts right then and there. 

Just as the two of you began to make your way through the crowd of people beginning to return from various rooms and places around the palace, a woman weighed down in jewels so large they may been made of lead along with a fitting frilly peacock mask to bat stopped in front of the two of you, “You promised me a dance an hour ago.” Her voice was laced with alcohol so strong you had to keep from wrinkling your nose. 

While she was smiling, her frustration was about as obvious as your partner’s, “Oh? Did I?” His eyes darted back and forth like he was looking for an escape path. 

Then, like a firework going off, his face lit up and he pointed his glass to the corner of the ballroom farthest away from your spot. “Well, I personally think that it would be a shame to steal such a gem away from the Duke of Castion, I happened to overhear that he saw a rather dashing bird earlier in the night.” 

He let go of your arm, but just as you saw him walk away from you to share some more words with the woman, he raised his eyebrows at you: stay. That much was clear. “I also happened to see him casting- not to be dramatic, but ‘forlorn’ is the only word coming to mind right now- looks at you since then. Now, I’m not saying that it would be in your best interests to go chase that rather fine man, but if anyone asks? You didn’t hear any of this from me.” He leaned down to kiss the back of her hand, and as soon as he had pulled his golden hand away, she had disappeared into the crowd. 

You stared at him incredulously, “Did he really say he was interested in her?” 

“No, I made it up to get her to leave me alone, she does this sort of thing every year. But she’ll catch on, so I’m going to suggest we put a little distance between this lovely party and us.” He laughed and laced your fingers together with his before quickly tugging you out onto the balcony. 

A balcony that you soon learned was actually a terrace that led out into sprawling gardens. Almost right below was a stunning fountain with waters that seemed to shimmer in clear night sky and moonlight. 

Finally having a breath of fresh air, you caught up to him, and followed his lead down the stairs. You looked over at him with a question hanging in your mind, “She does this every year, huh? Why don’t you just tell her that you aren’t interested?” 

A bitter laugh tumbled out of him as he gave you a: if-it-were-that-easy-I-would-have-done-it-years-ago look. “I sort of have a reputation; if I go pissing off these idiots then I won’t hear the end of it.” 

“The curse of the upper class.” You laughed, “You have to love politics.” 

As you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he leaned on the column, and let go of your hand, “Out of all of the things I do love, politics are most certainly not one of them, I can assure you.” 

As you walked over to the rim of the fountain, you cast a glance over your shoulder at him, “Well then, what exactly are some things that you do love? So far all I know about you is that you’re charming, rich, and have a pension for being a smooth liar.” 

“One lie.” He pursed his lips, holding up his index finger for emphasis, but he just waved his hand and sighed whenever your silence was his only reply. “Fine, fine, you got me there.” 

“Well…?” 

“Oh! Right, the things I-“ he cleared his throat and shook his head before making his way over to your side as you stood up on the rim of the fountain to meander  
along it- “for starters…good company.” 

“Smooth.” You rebutted, suppressing a laugh, and he only coyly shrugged in response. 

“Speaking of good company, I don’t think I caught your name…?” He asked after a moment or so of silence, and after leaning over to look down at him from on top of the fountain’s edge you smirked. 

You tapped his chest lightly, “I thought the whole point of a masquerade was to hide your face.” 

“Do spare me that, from what I can see I happen to like that face of yours, and now you’re avoiding my question.” 

“You didn’t ask one.” 

“Fine, I alluded to one, what’s your name?” 

You hopped off of the edge and fought off a blush, was this flirty banter? Call it depressing, but you’d been a bit too much of a workaholic to think about playful remarks like this. “Cat got your tongue?” He asked, sitting down on the edge of the fountain as he looked up at you, either he was just enjoying himself or he’d caught wind of your blush and was rather proud of that fact. 

…Probably the latter. 

“(Y/N).” You finally said, and his eyebrow quirked up in curiosity like he was expecting more. 

“No last name? No title?” He chuckled. The man rested his arms on his legs as he leaned forward, and it looked like part of his cape had accidentally fallen into the fountain but he hadn’t noticed yet. 

Did he really think that you could possibly be one of the nobles dancing the night away up there? Well, yes, you had been dancing. But that was hardly the point. 

“Whoa there, the night is young, and I don’t even know your name.” You tried to play it off, but really you hadn’t expected to have someone asking about who you were. This night of all nights, all you wanted was to be a face in the crowd, do anything, go anywhere, and be with anyone without having it follow you the next day. This was already verging heavily on imposing on quite a few of those hopes. 

His reaction wasn’t exactly what you’d expected though, and his face showed visible confusion. Was it that you hadn’t just opened up about who you were?

“You really don’t know who I am?” It was a mix between shock, confusion, mild offense, and bewilderment.

Wow, entitled, I see. Was your first thought, but you bit your tongue. “Like I said…masquerade? Hiding faces? Do I strike you as someone as comes to this place a lot?” You waved your hands around the gardens, but you were worried about giving too much away. If he was really someone important, especially in Vesuvia, that could put you in a difficult situation. Would he be offended with dancing with someone “below him?” Would he think that you were purposefully trying to anger him by not knowing one of the countless apparently important figures? The hundreds of questions that ran through your mind in only a few brief seconds as you took a quiet step back were unparalleled. 

He drummed his hand on his leg and knit his eyebrows together before faintly shaking his head, “Now that you mention it, no. I guess you don’t seem like anyone who would usually stay in the palace. I would know.” 

A sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach; was he one of the consuls? 

“…You would?” 

He slowly looked up at you, absolutely baffled at this point, maybe a bit of his pride was wounded? “Who is this whole masquerade for, (Y/N)?” 

“Count Lucio,” You replied, rubbing the back of your neck, already having a bad feeling about where this was going. A vivacious rich man who quite literally swept you off of your feet-

“That’s me.” He replied with a deadpan look only barely masking a begrudging disappointment. 

Asra’s not going to be happy about this, you thought, and your mind started swimming. Was it even legal to be here? He was married, if the Countess caught him with you, she could only really take out her anger on you, not him. Yes, there was rumors of them having a tumultuous relationship but between rumors and the safe side there was always going to be clear side that you’d lean towards. And disregarding her because she wasn’t even the one who you were in the presence of, one snap of his fingers and he could have you sent to the dungeons, or worse, to the coliseum. Some people claimed that his temper was so bad that even looking at him the wrong way on a bad day could land you having you battle the Scourge of the South. He could apparently destroy your reputation across multiple important cities, and given how magicians relied on that first and foremost for work? It was better to avoid him knowing anymore about you than he already did, and you didn't want to put your friend at risk. Usually grudges went both ways, and while Asra was the most powerful magician you knew, a Count's power is nothing to scoff at. Especially a temperamental one. 

You cleared your throat and dipped your head a bit, “Well, Count, I hope I didn’t offend you by not recognizing you, I don’t usually go to many officials’ public appearances.” 

Instead of earlier whenever Lucio had been looking for a way to get out of the ballroom, now you were looking for some sort of way to divert his attention to get out of there.

“Please, call me Luc-“ he started whenever you remembered his cape being thoroughly drenched, perfect. 

As you took a step back towards the stairs, you pointed to his cloak, “Lucio, your…the water?” You pointed to it, and as soon as his attention was drawn to the water below you bolted. A curse escaped him, something about damned attention spans, and your heart raced. 

This was the guy who your best friend hated? Yes, you’d heard things from him, but you’d heard things from the marketplace, from sailors, and now somehow after meeting the Count yourself he felt more enigmatic than before. Better to simply get out of there, out of his sight, and forget this strange night had ever even happened. 

Taking the steps three at a time, you’d just arrived at the top whenever you heard him, “Wait- dammit…!” Not even sparing a look to see how far away he was, you slipped into the crowd of people, and hoping to cause a distraction you got an idea.   
It was a trick Asra had taught you after coming back from the South, an ice trick. He first showed you down by the docks, the two of you occasionally went down there to show some magic tricks to some of the orphans, and being in a hot port city? They adored being able to skate and scoot around the docks for a little while.

After getting to the middle of the dance floor, you cupped your hands around your mouth, closed your eyes, and blew out. The area around your feet began to get icy and you grinned, that was the first time you’d tried it on such a large scale, and within moments the whole ballroom’s floor was covered. Some people gazed in awe of the swirling ice’s design on the floor whereas the folks who had been in the middle of a rather intense tango had a little more shock than awe. 

People went sprawling into one another, screams of anger, confusion, and general chaos began to erupt as you managed to push through to the main entrance of the ballroom where more people were beginning to leave in a stream. It didn’t seem like anyone had put together that it had been your doing due to their own preoccupation, but when you finally weathered a glanced behind you your heart dropped. 

Standing at the threshold of the terrace and ballroom was Count Lucio, breathing heavily, eye flicking from the floor to you with an unreadable expression. 

Even as the mass of people leaving obscured your view of him, and his from yours, you could still feel his piercing gaze following closely behind. It felt like an unspoken truth that this wouldn't be the last time that the two of you would cross paths. Whether it would be for better or for worse though, you had no idea.


	4. Another Ordinary Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things return to relative normal after an eventful Masquerade, but there is some explaining that needs to be done about recent pasts and the distant kind as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :………sir that’s my emotional support villain redemption enemies to lovers story. I’m kidding. Partially. Let me know how you’re liking the story if you’ve got this far! Or don’t, I mean, I won’t really know other than kudos and comments. Also, this is going to be a slow slow burn. If it seems like there’s more chemistry between (Y/N) and pretty much every other character other than Lucio there is a reason; don’t even worry about it. Anyhow, BACK TO THE STORY

The rest of the night was a blur, you had managed to shove your way through the people crowding the hallways, and you stumbled through the familiar streets of Vesuvia. So long as you only avoided the palace for the rest of time along with any public appearance of the Count you figured you would be good. (Not that he had even fully seen your face, of course, but you still felt unnerved at the whole situation.) 

Naturally, you had your fair share of questions for your friend, what exactly was the reasoning for his hatred of the Count? Asra didn’t do things without reason, but you still debated whether or not you should tell him about what happened. Would he be mad? Sometimes you couldn’t quite get a read on him. 

Finally, you arrived back at the shop, brought down the wards, and promptly climbed the stairs to your bedroom before collapsing into the bed. Dreams thankfully didn’t greet you that night, but it that didn’t entail that it was "restful" sleep.

By the time the morning rolled around you felt like you may as well have not slept at all. “Great.” You mumbled as you sat up, there were a few bruises on you, some little gifts from the throng of people after the minor ice incident. If Asra came back before they faded then that would be a fun story to explain. 

The morning was too early to think about the night before, you felt like you had a hangover, and you just wanted a quick bite to eat. 

And so, to the marketplace you went. 

Now, sometimes the festivities could carry on for a week on end, but it seemed that this year that wasn’t the case. Things were winding down, and people were cleaning up the streets that had ribbons, confetti, scattered masks, and countless other things to clutter up the roadways. You had to tip-toe around some of the people going around and picking things up, and judging by their clothes they were probably sent out from the palace. A sort of mass clean up crew. 

At the corner of your street, one of them seemed like they were no older than fifteen and they were struggling to pick up a heavy cloak on top of the broken pieces of a box. Just as they were about to trip over the edge of the fabric, you waved your hand and they stopped falling in midair. Gently flicking your hand back up, they slowly moved upright again, and their eyes widened. “H-hey, thank you…could have been a nasty fall.” They mumbled, seeming more embarrassed at their clumsiness than anything else, and they awkwardly smiled. 

You shook your head with a warm smile, “Don’t worry about it, do you need some help with any of that, or…?” 

They looked genuinely surprised, but smiled and nodded, “Again…thank you.” 

You gently took the pieces of the broken box into your arms and they explained that there was a cart on the adjacent street that they were supposed to drop the trash littering the streets in. The kid’s name was Blaire, and they explained how this wasn’t a full-time job, after any big event the palace usually would hire a bunch of people. 

Apparently, the thinking was along the lines of that saying that the “room reflects the mind” except on a much larger scale. 

“Did it come from the top, this little project or….?” You asked, raising a curious eyebrow, and Blaire nodded quickly. 

“I think we all know how the Count is with appearances…” they sighed, and you laughed awkwardly.

You don’t know the half of it, you thought looking away. 

The cart came into view and you dropped your things in the back of it, given how early it still was you were shocked to see how full it already was, and then you dusted off your hands. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew next time, kid.” You chided them. 

Blaire laughed and rubbed the back of their neck, “No promises.” 

Kids. You thought, shaking your head, and after giving a small wave you headed out to the marketplace.

It was considerably empty, that was, until you remembered a solid half of the city was probably in a miniature coma, hungover, or still busy with…things. Only a few people were milling around, generally older folks, kids, or some considerably dedicated stalls. One of which you were extraordinarily happy to see.   
Selasi, the baker, was casually leaned on his stall. He seemed completely content which meant one of two things: he had a great night, or he stayed at home. Now that you were thinking about it, it could easily have been both. “Selasi!” You waved, jogging over, a friendly face was more than welcome right about then. 

He lit up and grinned at you, “There’s my favorite magician.” 

You poked his arm, “Careful; don’t let Asra catch you saying that.” 

The baker seemed less than concerned and he puffed out a bit of air as he rolled his eyes, “Asra loves my pumpkin bread way too much to be annoyed at me saying that. Besides, you don’t know if I call him my favorite magician whenever you aren’t around.” 

“I’m not the one rarely here.” 

“Touché, (Y/N), touché.” He chuckled, and he gestured around the empty marketplace, “Can you believe how crazy it was last night? I was debating going but I came out here and saw how nuts it was and thought I would probably have a better night at home sleeping.” 

Aha, you were right about staying home, ah sweet vindication. 

“What were you even going as?” You asked, trying to picture the baker in some sort of animal mask, but his face lit up bright red. 

Oh? 

“Now, that’s a secret I’ll never tell.” Was his only reply to that question, and instead of letting that interesting subject continue on he turned his attention to you and raised an eyebrow, “But you look like you barely slept a wink. What happened with you?” He held up a hand as he closed his eyes, “Listen, I get you’re a magician and everything but if someone gave you hell yesterday just say the word. I have these, I might as well use them, am I right?” He patted his arms for emphasis. 

You were grateful to have him looking out for you and you laughed tiredly, “Do I look that bad?” He only stared at you with the same expression as before. Ouch. 

Noted, you thought sighing but said, “I uh…may or may not have danced with the Count last night?” 

His face fell into one of worry and awe, “You’re joking.” 

“I am not, in fact, joking, Selasi.” You replied, kicking a nearby pebble with your rock.

Whenever you glanced up at him, for a moment he had his hand covering his mouth and you could almost hear an, “Oh.” It was very reassuring. Rubbing your temples, you went on to explain the gist of the evening, and he only nodded in reply. Occasionally, he would hum a bit just to let you know he was paying attention, but whenever you finished, he let out a long breath. “So, he doesn’t know anything other than your name and half of your face?”

You rubbed the back of your neck, “I don’t know whether or not he saw me doing magic.” 

That earned a low whistle of apprehension from him and he went back to leaning on his stall, drumming his fingers on the wood, “Well, (Y/N), that would significantly narrow down the pool of people in this city if he did see that. You make it sound like he’s going to, I dunno, track you down or something?” He reached over and grabbed a loaf of bread and tossed it over to you. 

After you barely caught it, he continued, “Listen, if he’s half as much as his reputation he probably found someone within minutes after you left, I wouldn’t worry about it. So just take the bread, consider it as thanks for being a loyal customer and good friend, and relax today.” 

“But the rent-“ you began to argue, and he held up his finger, dug around in his pocket, and handed you a handful of coins- “I…? Selasi?” 

He smiled warmly and put his hand on your shoulder, “You helped me out more than enough times with my oven at home, fixing up my stall with a flick of your hand, and that one time whenever I was behind on my own rent here. This is the least I can do. So, take a break…” You thought he was going to say something else based on how he trailed off, but he pulled his hand back and nodded over your shoulder, “Seems my second favorite magician just came back.” Selasi winked at you, and you turned to see Asra making his way through the tattered streets. 

He seemed in a good mood, you hated to ruin that, but there seemed like a few things you and the magician needed to discuss. 

“Well, I would ask how the masquerade was, but judging by the city…? Seemed like it was...lively.” Asra mused whenever you got into ear shot. “I was just going to grab some bread but it seems like you’ve already got that covered.” 

Faust poked her head out of his satchel before bobbing it happily, Friend!

It was good to see them, and you smiled, “I would ask about your trip but seeing how quickly you came back I think you just missed my lovely company.” 

Asra rolled his eyes under the brim of his hat and gentle shoved your shoulder, “Something like that, now come on, let’s go home.” 

Ten minutes later, he was setting down his things by the store’s counter, and you walked upstairs to go put the bread away for the time being. “So how was it?” Asra called up, and you knew that he was asking more for you rather than anything else. The sentiment was appreciated. 

“Uh…it was…a time.” You started, sighing as you hopped up onto the counter to sit on it as you heard Asra’s footsteps come up the stairs. He poked his head up with a faint air of worry at your vague reply, and he gently moved to let Faust curl up on the bed. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he raised an eyebrow, and moved his hand in a circle, “Okay, the ominous vagueness of that is making me worry, (Y/N).” 

“Sorry, I just…it was a weird night. I went up to the palace just to check it out, and was minding my business in the ballroom whenever a man asked to dance with me. We talked for a bit, and then we went down to the fountain…it turns out I was dancing with the Count and didn’t realize it. So, I pointed out his cape was soaked and made a break for it. And I may or may not have used that ice trick you used down at the docks to make sure there would be some distance. I’m not entirely sure if he saw that bit or not…” You sighed, and Asra’s amethyst eyes flashed in a bit of protectiveness and anger. 

Though, the anger wasn’t at you, that much was clear. “I mean, I know I never go to his speeches, but I always thought you had seen him, at least decently, once or twice-I just. Did you really not know it was him?” He seemed more confused and worried about you before anything else, and a wave of relief rolled over you. 

“I just thought he was some wealthy noble or something who had sailed in for the party.” You replied, trailing your hand across the cool counter without much thought, and you shrugged, “It all happened so fast.” 

He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at the ceiling, “Yeah those things do tend to happen quickly,” Asra closed his eyes and let his arms fall into his lap, “I’m just glad that he didn’t hurt you.” 

You say that like you have experience with him, you thought, but you moved off of the counter to sit next to him. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you dropped your voice down, “Asra…? You always dodge the question, but please? Can you tell me what happened with you two?” 

Clearly that wasn’t the question that he was hoping to be asked, because his eyes fell to the floor, “It’s…a long story.” 

“I have time.” 

The magician cracked a laugh and shook his head as his eyes flashed over to yours, “It was less of a warning and more of a preface, (Y/N)…” 

“So, I guess I’ll start a while ago then… you remember how I grew up on the streets? It wasn’t always like that, I used to have my parents, and they were good. We were good, happy, and out of all of the things that I’ve forgotten I never was able to forget how much they loved each other. How much they loved me.” The longing in his voice was obvious, and Faust moved to rest her head on Asra’s leg. 

This was the first time that he had ever mentioned his parents, whenever his childhood was brought up it had always been mysterious, and all you had been able to do was put together that he was an orphan who had a pension for magic. 

But, no. He wasn’t an orphan; he was orphaned. 

“Anyway…Lucio used to be a mercenary, those rumors are true, it’s how he lost his arm. Some accident or battle, I really couldn’t care less, honestly. My parents were good magicians, they taught me some things before…before it all happened. But Lucio commissioned them to make him a magical golden arm, one of a kind, and it was. But I guess that he really did want it to be the only one of its kind, because guards came along and dragged my parents off to the palace.” 

Asra’s voice shook and his knuckles had lost color from how tightly he’d been gripping them, “That was the last time that I saw them.” The air around him felt tense, like a violin whose strings had been drawn too tight. If you listened closely you could almost hear the air crackling. 

“So, he’s why you ended up there…” You said gently, shaking your head, your stomach twisted at the thought. 

A bitter laugh shook out of him, and he tapped his thumb against his ring finger almost as if he was trying to get rid of the pent-up emotions. “I would say at least I met my oldest friend, but even that he managed to take away.” A shaky breath escaped him and he jabbed his thumb in the direction of the coliseum. “The ‘Scourge of the South’? You’ve heard of him, right?” 

“Right, everyone has…I’ve never been to one of the fights though.” You replied softly, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you already knew where this was going. 

“Good.” Asra’s voice was icy, and there was a sharp snap in the air a bit of electricity made your hair stand on end, “Because that’s him. Muriel. His name’s Muriel, and all I know about how he got roped into being the main attraction there is that it has something to do with the Count.” 

Faust pulled herself up and wrapped around his arm before softly flicking her tongue at Asra’s cheek. He softened, only just a bit at first though, and he rested his head on his hand, “So… yes. There’s a lot there.” He finally seemed to calm down a bit and a sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” 

Something told you that this was probably the first time that he had ever told anyone all of this stuff, and you pulled him into a gentle side hug, “So am I, you’d be lost without me, Asra.” His head fell and you could hear a dry laugh escape him. There weren’t any arguments though, and you gently squeezed his shoulder. “But really, as much as I can’t help your parents, your friend Muriel? Do you see him a lot…?” 

Asra rubbed the back of his neck, that faint smile faded, “No, once in a blue moon, he doesn’t want to see me much. Not with everything he has to do, and I can’t even bring myself to watch the fights…” 

Even if you wanted to argue with his reasoning you couldn’t, but you wanted to watch out for him. And Asra wasn’t exactly someone who opened up and tried to lean on other people, even his familiar, so you wanted to at least bring some sort of peace of mind. Thinking about what you could possibly do, you pulled your arm away and began to pace as you thought about different ideas. 

“Why were you asking? You have that look.” Asra noted, but you kept your eyes on the wall in front of you before you turned on your heel and continued walking towards the other one. 

You frowned, “What look?” 

“Your look, the one you have when you’re trying to make some crazy plan,” he replied.

With all of the things that you had heard, you were starting to get some ideas, “Okay, well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say ‘crazy.’ I do have some ideas though.” 

He narrowed his eyes like he still didn’t believe you but you held up your hands as you stopped pacing, “Hear me out, he needs to get out of there, but it sounds like Vesuvia’s the only place he’s known. And with you being his friend…? I bet he wouldn’t really want to leave. But, where does everyone in the city avoid?” 

“Uh…the Flooded District, if possible?” Asra asked, bewildered, not really following your train of thought. 

“No!” You said smacking your forehead with your palm, “The forest.” 

“Oh, right. The forest.” He repeated, and then it seemed to click. “So, you and I are going to look for a decent place for him to live out there? Start setting it up?” Aha, now he was catching on. 

“Exactly.” You agreed, “I’ll go try and talk to him after one of the fights, since at least then we know where to find him,” who knew if they took Muriel to another place in between fights, and there would be too many variables otherwise, “and let him know. Then, once the time’s right then you- or me- or maybe even both of us can find a way to get him out of there.” 

Asra’s eyes glittered with something you couldn’t quite recall seeing in a long time, and his smile was palpable, “Have I mentioned how much I love you?” 

“Frequently, Asra, and back at you.” You messed with his hair and he softly shoved your hand away. 

He fell back on the bed grinning, “Just another average day with Alnazar and (Y/L/N), huh?” 

“Nothing out of the ordinary here to me.” You joked back.


End file.
